Prologue
Colorado, 1915
The morning air was crisp as I headed to check the traps. The dew dripped from the leaves of the branches I disturbed, wetting my hair and face . Surprisingly, it was still refreshing, despite the bite in the air. There definitely wasn’t a shortage of cold mornings in Colorado, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Rounding the lake, I noticed a disturbance in the brush. Something had gone through, snapping branches and bending some smaller trees. Shouldering my weapon, I went in search of the animal. It was probably a large bear. Excitement gripped me at the thought of bringing the animal home; how I’d get it there was another story.
A short way into the woods, the path ended abruptly. I stood in a clearing, using the sight of my rifle to search the woods around me. Circling around again, I noticed a small hole in the north end and proceeded slowly. Normally, the sounds of animals and insects would consume the small forest, but all was silent. The only noise was the crunch of my boots on the sticks and leaves.
My racing heart thudded loudly in my ears . At one point, I thought about turning back, but couldn’t ignore the temptation of possibly catching the animal. That amount of meat would feed my family for probably a month and the hide would be worth a pretty penny. Not to mention my father would be proud that I managed to track and kill it.
However, disappointment followed soon when nothing out of the ordinary appeared. The bear had probably been bustling about the night before, no doubt hunting the same small game as I. Sighing heavily, I headed back towards home with the small offerings I’d gathered from my traps. A few days meat was better than nothing.
About a mile from the cabin, I happened upon a woman. She sat atop the stump of a tree, watching the lake tentatively. Her dark hair billowed in the soft breeze, creating a curtain behind her. She was dressed in a simple riding outfit, but not one fitted for cold weather.
“Miss, are you alright?” I asked.
“Thank you, yes I am. I’ve been waiting for someone and they haven’t shown,” her voice rippled over my skin like melted butter.
“My family owns this land. Most people don’t trespass here . Do you have the name of the person you are to meet?” I stuttered.
“What is your name?” she turned, captivating me. Her violet eyes held my gaze and my brain turned to jelly.
“C...Christian,” I managed to say.
“Christian, what?” s he stood up, revealing just how tight the riding outfit was.
“Christian Mason, ma’am.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. It seems I’ve been stood up. Would you accompany me to my caravan?” i t was less of a question.
“I’d be glad to,” I dropped my pack and rifle and followed her into the brush.
“You seem too young to carry such a burden, Christian. How old are you?”
“I just turned twenty-five. I don’t mind hunting, really. What e lse is there to do out here?” I laughed lightly, she smiled.
“Hunting is a good skill. I learned to hunt when I was very young. My father was a master bowman. Have you ever used a bow?”
“I was taught. As I got older, my father fitted me with my own rifle. My brother uses my bow now. I haven’t hunted with one in some time. If you don’t mind me asking, do you live here?”
“No,” she giggled. “We’re nomads. As weather changes we move and so on. It’s a pretty rewarding way of living. New trades and knowledge everywhere we go.”
“Interesting. I’ve lived here my whole life. I couldn’t ima gine anywhere else, to be honest, ” I smiled.
“If I could show you, I would,” she said seductively. My knees almost buckled.
I wasn’t a stranger to beautiful women. I’d been with a few, but never settled down. Most women were married by my age and I’d often find myself the object of affection and lover for a short time. Sure, it was exciting, but if my mother ever found out she would
Colorado, 1915
The morning air was crisp as I headed to check the traps. The dew dripped from the leaves of the branches I disturbed, wetting my hair and face . Surprisingly, it was still refreshing, despite the bite in the air. There definitely wasn’t a shortage of cold mornings in Colorado, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Rounding the lake, I noticed a disturbance in the brush. Something had gone through, snapping branches and bending some smaller trees. Shouldering my weapon, I went in search of the animal. It was probably a large bear. Excitement gripped me at the thought of bringing the animal home; how I’d get it there was another story.
A short way into the woods, the path ended abruptly. I stood in a clearing, using the sight of my rifle to search the woods around me. Circling around again, I noticed a small hole in the north end and proceeded slowly. Normally, the sounds of animals and insects would consume the small forest, but all was silent. The only noise was the crunch of my boots on the sticks and leaves.
My racing heart thudded loudly in my ears . At one point, I thought about turning back, but couldn’t ignore the temptation of possibly catching the animal. That amount of meat would feed my family for probably a month and the hide would be worth a pretty penny. Not to mention my father would be proud that I managed to track and kill it.
However, disappointment followed soon when nothing out of the ordinary appeared. The bear had probably been bustling about the night before, no doubt hunting the same small game as I. Sighing heavily, I headed back towards home with the small offerings I’d gathered from my traps. A few days meat was better than nothing.
About a mile from the cabin, I happened upon a woman. She sat atop the stump of a tree, watching the lake tentatively. Her dark hair billowed in the soft breeze, creating a curtain behind her. She was dressed in a simple riding outfit, but not one fitted for cold weather.
“Miss, are you alright?” I asked.
“Thank you, yes I am. I’ve been waiting for someone and they haven’t shown,” her voice rippled over my skin like melted butter.
“My family owns this land. Most people don’t trespass here . Do you have the name of the person you are to meet?” I stuttered.
“What is your name?” she turned, captivating me. Her violet eyes held my gaze and my brain turned to jelly.
“C...Christian,” I managed to say.
“Christian, what?” s he stood up, revealing just how tight the riding outfit was.
“Christian Mason, ma’am.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. It seems I’ve been stood up. Would you accompany me to my caravan?” i t was less of a question.
“I’d be glad to,” I dropped my pack and rifle and followed her into the brush.
“You seem too young to carry such a burden, Christian. How old are you?”
“I just turned twenty-five. I don’t mind hunting, really. What e lse is there to do out here?” I laughed lightly, she smiled.
“Hunting is a good skill. I learned to hunt when I was very young. My father was a master bowman. Have you ever used a bow?”
“I was taught. As I got older, my father fitted me with my own rifle. My brother uses my bow now. I haven’t hunted with one in some time. If you don’t mind me asking, do you live here?”
“No,” she giggled. “We’re nomads. As weather changes we move and so on. It’s a pretty rewarding way of living. New trades and knowledge everywhere we go.”
“Interesting. I’ve lived here my whole life. I couldn’t ima gine anywhere else, to be honest, ” I smiled.
“If I could show you, I would,” she said seductively. My knees almost buckled.
I wasn’t a stranger to beautiful women. I’d been with a few, but never settled down. Most women were married by my age and I’d often find myself the object of affection and lover for a short time. Sure, it was exciting, but if my mother ever found out she would
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